She Will Have To Pay
by Silvara
Summary: The captain—from the Skyward Sword prequel manga—had strayed from his path: risen by his feats, hailed as a deity. Long he had endured Her punishment, sealed as a mask, until he met the child who could wear his face. Now, on the back of the Hero of Time hung a pallid tool: grave, focused, intense. While innocents just found it vengeful, guilty souls were right to deem it ominous...


Cover disclamer Cover made from Split-heart's doodle at :  
split-heart. deviantart. c_o_m / art/Fierce-Diety-Doodle-at-work-189601784

 _._

* * *

 _At the Hero's back was a ghostly mask, so similar to his own face ; an item made of ivory and wood._

 _It was grave, focused,_ intense _._

 _Innocents thought it vengeful, but guilty souls felt it ominous._

 _If the Hero looked at it, he could only see himself._

* * *

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He had been woken when the Hero had found himself into an atrocious pain.

He didn't remember or understood the reason, through. Thanks to the fog of the seal. He only knew that the pain must not have been physical, because all the Heroes had always learnt to endure those on their own.

The pain had shook him from his bindings, and he had dared to cross the mask's boundaries to hum for the brat's attention.

The brat had answered. Rather warily, at first.

But that, he could understand ; it had been long that he had not behaved with civilized manners himself...

Together, they had sorted out the code to communicate. Words were scarce, but there were silences , emotions, pictures. and memories deeply understandable to both of them. And there were few boundaries to these things when you were both immaterial and consciously invited—welcomed by a child's mind. (Immaterial still being a castrating notion, despite of the millennias, mind you Goddess...)

From the brat, he had heard the silences and the hopes, the cries, the wounds, the traumas, the absence.

All of the offset songs that had so long echoed in his tiny mortal mind.

They rang too true and close to home ; he had almost let himself be crushed into their tide. There had not been any room for cynicism there. Without needing to think, he had resolved to lent his power a little longer. He had already seen that he could yeld control to the child, anyway.

If felt refreshing.

He felt almost alive again.

Time had passed in many way, and different songs. Still, the child stood away from her. She was confusing him—much more than She had had troubled him back then.

They kept travelling, encouraged the boy to explore the world and himself, far from her influence; or at least, as far as possible. Because from what he had seen in the boy's mind, that reincarnation of Her was not someone that the child could truly have without learning to build peace on his own, first.

So they went on, right onward, and he did all he could to prevent the grasshopper from looking back (a bloodied, grimed grasshopper of seventeen—but that never meant anything for them).

He teased, advised and bantered with him until the boy had no energy left to long for her. And sometimes, he shared experience too, because the brat had chosen the path of the sword. It was strange how many thing they shared...

But he had tried not to get attached.

He knew that the Goddess had set a date to the end of his penitence. His soul belonged with her, and his heart longed for her arms. But it was strange to see another Hero ; it was everyday amusing to try to see if they truly exactly shared the same spirit.

After all this time, facing Hylia could wait a few more years, He decided.

The boy needed someone to protect him against the silences, against the darkness that lurked where his sword had no power.

The weight of the Triforce was still as crushing as he remembered ; he wouldn't say goodbye until he was sure that his heir had a chance to survive.

So he made a fierce and faithful vigil for his heart, because there were no one else that he would trust with it. Yet, he did not stray from the seal—from Her will ; he did not say anything about himself to the boy.

It did not mean that he would not have cursed Her name. But having his soul tied to Her magic though an accursed mask, he had to be mindful of his opinion of Her.

...He loved her. And the boy's spirit did too ; even if his heart was focused on her descendant. They all had always loved her. And for that, for them both—no, for them all, he would make Her pay.

He cringed as the seal's magic constricted, threatening against his spiritual energy. _Okay, maybe his sentence wasn't exactly undeserved—_

This love for his Goddess was the most painful and sweetest thing he had tasted, ridiculously demanding—and rewarding is some ways, both spontaneous and enforced, natural and guided, it had always felt overwhelming _right_ and _wrong_.

Right, because his spirit had decided of this long before She had decided to meddle in with her magic. Wrong, because no one deserved to have that kind of power on him.

(Damn! He had seized the powers of a god and She never acknowledged him, still treating him like one of Her mortals _even in front of his subjects ! How could he not had acted !? It was not as if he had tried to kill Her !_ ) His aura intensified and the seal tightened again. He wanted to despise how She had claimed his spirit and made it immortal—the fact that he had willingly given it at some point was irrelevant here—but he had never known how to hate Hylia...

...Which was perhaps the reason why She had not completely destroyed him after what he had done to her. Either that, or his Goddess direly had to learn others means to express Her affections.

He closed his eyes, the sigil on his forehead slowly returning to a brighter blue, and the red marks on his cheeks thinned. His aura fared back as the seal yielded more room again.

Still...he knew how much Hylia hated to have Her plans delayed even from seconds. Well, he would make Her wait for him as much as his own heart could bear it.

His delicious Goddess would pay in a thousand tiny ways ; he made this a promise to himself, ire totally under control, as he had learnt to keep it through the centuries.

The seal hummed gently, as if on par with his feelings.

This would be interesting and _he_ couldn't wait~

 _._

* * *

 _At the Hero's back was a ghostly mask, so similar to his own face ;_

 _an item made of solid immovable ivory_

 _Yet, sometimes, when he talked about the Princess, the Hero saw a strange smile on its surface._

* * *

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A/N: Here The Fierce Deity has also been called Link, a long time ago. The sigil on his forehead is the sign of magicians who had sworn allegiance to the Goddess Hylia. He had earned the title of deity from the people that he used to protect from Demise, but through he acquired a powerful kind of magic, he is still technically Hylian.

The mask in which he has been sealed, only restrains his anger and pride. He can communicate beyond it often around of the Hero of Time because the only thing he feels for Link who inherited his spirit and burden is attachment...and maybe a silver of impatience.

It was part of a set of one-shots also featuring Kafei, Mikau, and Zelda in Termina.

With: The Masked Child _He has been thrown into a mature body, then back into a child's. Now he is in a foreign -alien- country, and has been changed -torn- into a different species. Well, they are four in his head now, and sometimes, they talk to him. "You remind me of someone I met a very long time ago...";_

A Zora Named Mikau _He doesn't know how to breath, how to move underwater,_ _but as soon as he is ready to panic for air, something is holding him ; something—someone, gently nudging him with instructions;_

What Are Zoras Made Of _He was always self conscious about letting sand or dirt get into his gills and sun didn't do well with his skin. Mikau just laughed it all off. Until the third day_ ;

Lifetimes of Seven Years Memories. _Hylia saw a general, a knight, a magician, and a musician, both, in the Hero of Time. His demeanor had shades too, now. But had it not been the same for_ them _, in their times? It went more and more difficult not to see them blur in her mind and heart_ ;

and Phantom Echoes _Once upon a time, a little princess saw hope in a pair of blue eyes. She had never seen those eyes before, never seen that kind of hope either, yet at first glance, she immediately knew how easy it would be to break, and how hard to nurture_.

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I know this one-shot was not half fulfilling, but I'm lacking inspiration right now. Nothing that the next Wii U game cannot fix, through. In the meantime, you can check my not so effective inspirational board (with artists names) from : w w w. pinterest. c_o_m /5ilvara/fierce-deity-and-loz-inspiration

Also, don't laugh, but this was an attempt at writing something without Zelda. Yeah I know.


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